Site Library Library of Rome

Story 932

Chapter 1 Diplomatic Mission MDCLXXVI A.U.C. (923 A.D.)

Lucius observed from his loggia. The siege was going well. In the distance he could spy the magnificent ramparts he had ordered constructed.. His inspiration had been Caesar’s works in Alesia. Catapults were hurling stones and dead animals regularly, and the soldiery was more or less done mopping up any resistance outside the city. The only problem he seemed to be having was locating some much needed provisions for his troops. A great deal of meat was readily available, but his troops weren’t used to it. They complained about not having good Roman wheat. Many villas across the countryside, including the one where he was stationed, had been converted into storehouses for the soldiers laying siege to the Saracen held town of Caralis, but there just wasn’t anything to put in them. Lucius clicked his tongue in frustration.

The Senate had plans to bring all of Sardinia under Latin control, and thus provide more farmland for the expected wars on the horizon. A few months ago -it seemed like years- a few northern hamlets on the island pleaded for help dealing with raids from the south. Rome stepped in with its navy and began to do more than help. To the northerners surprise, the Republic declared the isle a province, and began centuriating the land and conquering what was held by the Moslems. So far, all had gone reasonably well. This was a backwater province for the Saracens, resistance was almost not existent and reinforcements were out of the question. But Caralis was holding out till the bitter end.

Behind him, Lucius could hear his aide approaching. “Sir, a dispatch rider from Rome to see you. He carries a letter sealed by the Senate.”

“Permit him passage here.” Lucius often did not let anyone enter his private offices, spies were quite common in this part of the world. Unfortunately, sometimes they were bearing messages from the noble Conscript Fathers. But he had a hunch there was nothing to fear this time. He called it a soldier’s intuition.

A few moments later, a smartly dressed optio entered the office and stood at attention. Only after a salute did he relax and hand his scroll to Lucius. “Dismissed, soldier. Thank you for your swiftness.”

“Sir!” was all the petty officer could muster before leaving. Lucius was after all a pretty high ranking general, as they went anyway.

Lucius unrolled the scroll with minor apprehension. Nothing to his knowledge was going on of any great moment, so surely this was just some routine order. He began to read:

Greetings General from the noble Senate in Rome. We have received word that your military actions go well and we are most pleased. Now, the Conscript Fathers call you back to your city for your next assignment. You are granted time to complete your operations around Caralis, at which point we shall appoint a governor to take your place and begin the process of assimilating the local inhabitants. Your military expertise will be needed here, as well as abroad, in the coming months, and we ask for your hasty return. Good fortune and may Deus Defensor shine on you.

Lucius almost spat. “How infuriating!” The letter was thrown onto the brazier, crinkling and then finally catching and dwindling to nothing but dust. “Those old bastards! First they send me out to do their dirty work, and now one of those fat old landlords wants to come reap the benefits of provincial overlordship for himself!” He was speaking of the apparent disrespect of the tradition allowing the conquering general to take charge of his newest acquisition for at least a year, to soften his expenses from the conquest. These days, generals helped pay the troops to make up for Senatorial inadequacies. “Marcus, come in here please...”

“Sir!” The tribune attached to his staff entered in the crisp manner that Senatorial appointees always did.

“I need to...well, how much longer do the officers think this siege will last? That is without any nonsense about our glorious armies and all.” Lucius waved his hand as though to brush embellishments to the side.

“I couldn’t tell you off hand, sir. Perhaps I could call a council.” the officer looked eager to call a council. Nothing better than presiding over meetings for these politician-soldiers.

“No, no. That won’t be necessary. Just ask about the officers and see what they have to say.”

Marcus was visibly deflated. “Very well.”

“Dismissed.”

Lucius had decided not to tell them that he was to depart after he finished the conquest. All that would manage to do would be to get them all squabbling for position in the new government, instead of keeping their minds on the task at hand. Just as well that he burnt the letter. Now no one would know.

Lucius Bubonus Probus turned on his heel to stride toward his finely crafted glass window. A luxury, no doubt, and not suited to his soldiering tastes. But it belonged to this occupied house, not him, he thought. In the distance he spotted the fabulous catapulta giving their daily round to the city. I must get this island back. There is a fortune in land to be made for my gens here. Whatever those cretins in the Senate have me assigned to, it better be something worth my family’s future wealth. He was getting a little older, and his son nearing the age suitable for entry into the Senate. In time, his lad would replace him as the head of the family, the Paterfamilias. The thought frightened him a bit, there was enough work for him to do without thinking about training his son to be a proper man, which rightfully required a lifetime.

He sighed, “All in good time.” Hands clasped behind him, he turned again to walk to his evening meal. He needed much sleep, there were great preparations to make.

*****

“I’ve never seen someone become so violently ill,” Silavus gripped the wood rail so hard, Lucius thought he would put hand prints in it. The only response Lucius’ servant could give him was another violent retch, producing a wonderful medley for the dolphins following the ship to nibble at.

“Ach, thats disgusting.”

Wiping his mouth, Silavus scowled, “Im sorry, master. But what do you want?! Im losing all my innards over this bloody voyage strait across. We could have followed the coasts and kept away from this chop!” Most slaves didn’t talk so to their lords, but Lucius treated his as hired men, not servile subhumans.

“Yes well, I thought it best to get back to Rome the quickest way possible.” Lucius squinted out into the distance. He looked as though he might actually be able to pick out Rome across the wine dark seas of the Tyrrhenum.

Still collecting himself, Silavus managed another question, “What do you think they have called you for, master?”

“I really don’t know. And there really isn’t any way of telling. Had we been on Italian soil, perhaps. But Sardinia? We might as well have been in East Empire for the amount of news they sent us out there. They should really try and coax Occident into giving us that new invention of theirs.”

“What’s that?”

Lucius grabbed the rail and straitened himself. This was his explanatory posture. Back stiffened, he started, “Well, Im not too sure what it is,” Silavus thought this was some feigned modesty, “but I believe it uses some Saracen device whose nature has something to do with shaped pieces of glass in a leather cone or tube. Supposedly it allows for viewing distant objects as though they were right in front of you. From what I’ve heard, Occident uses a network of towers manned by personnel equipped with these to send messages by hand signals across large distances by viewing through these curiosities. Quite ingenious. But, for all our talk of alliance and loyalty, the Empires cooperate about as much as rival suitors for a woman. Like the way Orient sold us the Greek Fire recipe, instead of letting us have it to defend ourselves. Sneaky Greeks.” Lucius’ hand went sharply into the air. He looked ready to punch someone. “Sorry, getting a little caught up in it there.” Lucius didn’t harbor too many good feelings for the Eastern Empire, Orient, for a good number of reasons. He didn’t like their religion, Christianity; didn’t appreciate their lack of Latin as a common tongue, though it was nice that they tried to teach it to the elite for diplomatic missions; and surely did not care for their general apathy towards the fates of the two West Roman states: Occident, and his home, the Duchy of Latium.

Silavus thought it best to divert the conversation elsewhere than face another speech from his master on the value of all the empires retaining the same faith and being unified under Deus Defensor, God-Protector, “Hmph. In any event, when we arrive...actually, when do we arrive?”

“I should say tomorrow after dawn sometime.” Silavus wondered how accurate an approximation that was. A soldier was good at marching times, but what did he know of the sea? Perhaps he would go to the upper decks and ask a sailor.

“Thank the heavens. I will appreciate the ability to eat and contain myself again. But, as I was saying, when we arrive, will you be proceeding directly to the forum, or shall I accompany you to your domus on the hill?”

Lucius suddenly felt warm despite the slightly chilly sea air swirling about him. He pictured in his mind’s eye his finely appointed house atop the Palatine hill. “I suppose I should head strait to the Forum. Going that distance, I might as well go the final stretch and see what all the fuss is about, no?” Silavus nodded agreement.

“I am curious, master. It is quite a request, to return to them. Especially right in the middle of campaign. The only thing I’ve been able to figure is that someone’s pulling strings in the Curia to get you sent home and him to the new province.”

Lucius remembered his anger from when he first received word he was to go home. He was slightly surprised by his slave’s apparent political insight. As surprised as he was, he feigned that he didn’t care, “Yes, I hope that isn’t the case.”

“Im going to head to my bunk. I shall see you in the morning.”

“Good night, Silavus.” Lucius stayed and watched the sun set on the sea’s horizon. His head was swimming with the potential hostilities his servant secretary had just proposed. He prayed the Dux, Castus, hadn’t let politics in Rome become so sad.

*****

Lucius and Silavus stood under a portico of the Basilica of Maxentius. This building was already more than 500 years old, yet compared to some of the things around it, it was still in its infancy. Lucius had purposely entered the city from the south, so that he might walk across the entire length of the Forum Romanum on his way to the Curia, the Senate House. Sure, if you wanted pomp and vainglory, you could traipse through the Imperial Fora at the north end where the Caesars had built their magnificent celebrations of themselves, but this forum, it had been trod by the Caesar, Gaius Julius. Who, ironically, was the first to build a forum to himself. Ah, no matter.

“Good to be home, eh Silavus?” Lucius turned his head sideways to look at his servant, munching as he was on a piece of spiced lamb they had bought from a vendor standing under the Arch of Titus across the street.

“Aye, it is that,” it was easy to hear his relief even through a mouthful of meat. “Infernal insular weather out there, its good to be away from it for awhile, and back in a civilized place.”

“Mm-hmm. It is.” Lucius had just finished his snack and was getting ready to have some wine out of his sheepskin. “You think we should offer some thanks for the good journey before we go to the Senate?”

Silavus knew that Lucius wanted too, he had a thing about religious observance. He was just being kind and seeing if Silavus wanted to join him. Smiling to himself, “Sure, master.”

“Alright then, let’s go.” Lucius waved his hand and crossed in front of Silavus to go around the south facade of the basilica, towards the Temple of the Divine Romulus. Like Occident, Rome now existed under the aegis of the almighty Deus Defensor, but local religions were allowed to exist in towns, so long as they did not threaten the supremacy of the empire’s faith. Such was the case in this temple, where the ancient founder of Rome was honored. Many larger temples had been converted for Vian use in the days of Pompeianus.

Silavus stopped, “Go ahead, sir. Ill wait.” This was just a stop, Lucius just wanted to offer some incense to Romulus. Within a few minutes Lucius was back out, squinting against the still bright afternoon sun. Silavus could see the graffiti on the back wall of the temple strait in front of them, the one that Lucius really wanted to go to. Temple of the Divine Julius it was called, but these days, Julius was something of a holy man, not a god per se. The theology of Via taught of warriors for good, and Caesar was one of them.

As they came to the front of the temple, the space of the forum opened up before them, and seemed to breathe with a life its own. So many white togas, he figured someone would recognize Lucius and beckon him over, but by now Lucius was already halfway up the flight of steps with his back to the world, and Silavus had to skip a few to catch up. Only Romans of Rome wore the ancient garments anymore, at least in a form that would be recognizable to say, Cato the Censor. And even here, only Senators wore them, and perhaps a few other magistrates. It was simply tradition. No one thought any less of the men who did not wear them.

They stood together in front of the opened large bronze doors to the cool cella, and looked inside for a moment. The smell of antiquity seemed to flow out of the place, that damp stony smell that these old shrines seem to have. Lucius stepped in slowly. “Alright, Silavus...” Lucius walked up to the statue and knelt with his arms laying across the pedestal. Priests were in the background muttering prayers and ritually cleaning the temple. One seemed to be watching Lucius, no doubt thinking of lustrations to purify the place where he now knelt. Silavus thought to let his master in peace for a moment.

He turned to the left to face a niche in the wall, which portrayed Gaius Julius in a fresco in typical Vian fashion: sword drawn, charging against vilified Gauls. According to Via, the way, evil was in constant battle with its nemesis, light. It was Roman duty as people of the way, Viani, to help fight evil in this world. If you did good, you would join the God-Protector in the next world and continue your fight there. Silavus wasn’t sure how evil the Gauls of long ago had been, but whatever the case, they were on the side of light now, battling their Frankish overlords. He lit a candle and bowed his head in prayer. A few moments later, he walked to the portico and leaned on a pillar, waiting for his master to finish.

“Let’s go,” Lucius said as he bounded down the steps ahead of Silavus, he was in a hurry now.

“What’s the matter, master?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing. But now that I’ve done my religious duties, my mind returns to what brought me here in the first place. And the fact that I still don’t know what brought me here.”

“Ah.”

“Yes. So, come on. No time to waste.” Lucius began his brisk walk and by the time Silavus found a comfortable pace behind him, they were across the forum and in front of the Curia.

“Alright, my friend. I’m on my own now.” Lucius turned to go into the House, which was forbidden to all except Senators. He stopped and spun on his heel, “Silavus, do me a favor, would you?”

“Sire?”

“Go amongst the other Senators’ aides,” he pointed a finger randomly around the crowd, “see what the local news is, eh?” Lucius winked. It was a return to politics alright, when his soldierly master asked him such a thing. Nevertheless, it would give something to do while he waited for all the long-winded Conscript Fathers to finish impressing each other with speeches.

Inside, Lucius made the rounds and greeted everyone worthy of a greeting, and he was instructed to take a seat in the front row, the formalities of placement were to be ignored for the present, as this was an informal gathering. Slowly the Senators walked in, taking seats here and there. Senatorial attendance was optional, and for an informal gathering there appeared to be a great deal in attendance.

“Order, order.” a voice used to the acoustics of the hall commanded. It was the aged Princeps Senatus, Quintus Aulus, the leader of the Senate. “Please take your seats men, we have business to attend to.” His arm, raised in an attempt to gain attention, went down and grabbed the outer fold of his toga. He walked solemnly towards the front of the hall to take his curile chair of honor, and sat in the ancient fashion, one foot tucked underneath the stool, another extended out. A breath or two later and the hall had quieted down. A few armed men grabbed the ancient bronze doors of the House, and opened them to reveal the Dux, Castus, in military dress. His office was technically military, and hence he was allowed to appear this way in front of the Senate. He strode in briskly for his 50-some years. He had the look of a man with too many affairs going at once, and the stern, almost angered, look of a man content to make sure each one is properly attended to. He quickly ascended the 4 steps of the dais, and with a quick twirl spun his dark scarlet cloak behind him and promptly plopped himself on his stool. Being less apt to honor the nuances of Roman politics, he did not sit in the customary manner. He leaned forward, hands gripping his knees and arms bent slightly at the elbow. His eyes scanned the seated members with a skill that reminded one of a hunter, but that was just his look. He wanted no more than to get down to business.

He raised his right hand, giving the floor back to the Princeps, “Proceed, Noble Fathers.”

“Thank you, Lord Dux.” Quintus looked away from the Dux and out into the crowd of Senators. “Noble Quirites and Fathers of Rome, we are assembled here to announce a new policy, new war, and a new commander.” Lucius looked about, no one seemed too shocked at the news. His presumption was that this had all been thought out beforehand, and now he was about to receive some ‘honor’ from the Senate which would probably be against his better judgement to accept. “Our esteemed Master of Soldiers for Sardinia, Lucius Bubonus Probus, “ he pointed a hand towards Lucius, “has returned to Rome upon our summons, and in the hastiest of manners, I’ll add, to receive a new assignment. He, perhaps, is quite curious,” said Quintus with a mock smile at the mental strife of Lucius’, “why we have not let him receive his new assignment in the usual manner, by private meeting with other military officers. Or, more likely, why we have seemingly snatched his new conquests and governorships away from him, right at the cusp of victory! I, for one, would be fuming had it been done to me.” He smiled again, arousing a moderate chuckle from the few Senators who had seen military posts and their customary following governorships. “But, we assumed that the news to be given was of greater import than mere parchment could convey, so we have summoned him here, now, to receive his new mission from the noble Senate in person.”

Lucius was squirming in his seat. He still wasn’t sure if this was all some elaborate scheme to embarrass him in front of the entire Senate. Perhaps a posting to Rome’s glorious water board? Ha! He could see it happening. Castus, the Dux, wasn’t saying much, perhaps a tell-tale sign something was going on? He didn’t know the man very well, but considered himself an acquaintance on good terms with him. As a military man, he was something of Lucius’ commander. But these men were of the sort Lucius referred to as “paper soldiers.” Though, from the rumors he had heard, Castus was likely to be seen on the field relatively often, but only in the vicinity of Rome.

“So,” he cleared his throat, “without any further torture for Lucius Bubonus, I will tell him of our predetermined role for him in the coming war with the Frankish Kingdoms.” Lucius’ jaw loosened of its own accord. In all honesty, he thought his bowels might. Were they to appoint him master of operations in a war against the Frankish Kingdoms? Not only were the logistics of a war that far away impossible, but Latium could barely manage to take Sardinia and control its own lands at once, let alone opening another theatre of operations to the north. Worse yet, if he won, these areas promised little in terms of financial rewards for him as a province. Deus Defensor, he thought to himself, they want me in an early grave. “You, Lucius, will be given supreme command,” here it is, he said to himself, my death sentence, “of one legion assigned to assist our Roman brothers at Arx in their fight to push the Franks out of Gaul. Your imperium for this war will be supreme outside of Latium and its provinces. You may act as you see fit whilst fighting, and are granted permission to speak for the Dux and Republic.” Lucius liked how that sounded, Republic was becoming a vogue way to refer to the Duchy of Latium these days. He secretly held hopes, more like hopeless wishes, that the powers, though limited, of the Dux would be curtailed and eventually abolished, in favor of Republican institutions. “While you were in the field, we have conducted negotiations with the Emperor of Occident, and entered into a compact to assist him in his struggle against the heresy of the Franks. We do not know for sure the duration of this war, and you might want to be consulted by the Dux for further information on military matters, but the terms of the agreement stipulate that we will provide mostly naval assistance for the war, guarding the ‘rear’ of the Occidental empire from any raids or invasions by the Saracens, while you lead our meager army into the field to help them on the ground. The details of the assignment will be given to you later.” A brief silence conquered the room, all eyes were upon Lucius. “Do you accept the undertaking, Senator?”

Lucius stood up and looked solidly at the Princeps, “Yes, I do.” His head was flooded by questions. Those would be answered soon enough. When he had left Rome long ago to campaign, discussions with the West were nothing along the lines alliance.

Silavus saw his master exit the House and strode up to him. Judging by the gossip from the Senators already outside, he assumed Lucius had not been politically hamstrung in any way. “How did it go, master?” Lucius looked gravely in the direction of his domus and began to walk. Silavus fell in step.

“Ever been to Gaul, Silavus?”

“Uh, not that I recall. I assume what happened in there has something to do with it, no?”

“Oh yes, very much so.”

“Well!? Must I pry it out of you or will you cease torturing me with games?”

Lucius chuckled lightly, “Alright, alright. We are going to war, or I should say Occident is, against the Frankish Kingdoms, and I have been assigned to the one legion being sent in aid to our brethren.”

“I’m not sure if that is good news or bad news, sir.” Silavus looked perplexed as he strode past a few taverns that skirted the forum, before the approach to the road up the Palatine.

“Me either, for the moment. I think it will be alright, judging from what the Dux and I discussed. But for now, let us think of the families to which we return. Soon enough, we will be journeying again only to journey yet some more. Then to fight in a war and perhaps not return. Best to use our time here wisely.”

Silavus was in no mood to contemplate the fact that he could die just because the person he served was in a hostile situation, so he agreed to drop the matter. “Very well. Might I retire to the slave quarters when we get home, or should I help you settle in?”

“No, no. Go see your wife, hmm? Make yourself a child to return to, eh?” Lucius looked at Silavus with a gleeming grin.

Slightly embarrassed, Silavus responded, “Ha! Sounds like fun.” He hated it, but the thought would not be purged from his mind. Now it took a new grotesque form: he could produce a son now, and never see him if he died. He wondered if his master thought of these things.


Chapter 2 Halls of the Western Emperor

Laetitia clung to the walls so as to become part of them should someone spot her. Though she was a palace resident, the numerous guards, aides, servants, and slaves were not all guaranteed to know her. Her tiptoeing across the magnificently rendered mosaics was human nature, because should she be spotted, no one could miss her. She wore the layered, chalk-white silk gowns distributed to all mistresses of the Emperor. It did not match the walls, frescoed in vibrant colors as they were. Even the statues in their niches were painted to look alive. The way the light from the braziers and small torches seemed to bounce off of her also seemed to attract as much attention as a triumph down the Sacred Way. But she was used to this sort of snooping,; she was, after all, a palace resident.

Around one more corner and she was there. She stood a handful of paces from the wide open doors to the emperor’s audience chamber, or one of them anyway. And at the moment it was the most important one, for he was in it. She could hear the voices inside clearly in the marbled halls:

“The fleets will arrive shortly, Emperor.” It was the voice of Sorex, Sextus Asinius Sorex. A relatively monotonous post was his, that of a command of some contingent of soldiers, Laetitia did not know which ones. But nevertheless, he was a trusted aide of the Emperor, and in the last months he had come to be very useful to him, a fact Laetitia did not fail to miss. In her experience, useful people always expected more than just kind words in exchange for their deeds. “We have received word today from our fastest ships of their progress. Our small marine force has met them off the coast of Corsica, near Ilva, to escort their fleet to Arx. It seems the Romans are still too timid to break out on their own outside the Tyrrhennian Sea. In truth, the 4 ships we sent to guard their gargantuan fleets are only a superficial ‘escort.’ We figure they will mostly help them navigate their way safely here with minimal damage from Saracen pirates, as we know where they are located.”

“What kind of armaments do their ships carry? Have they managed to outfit any of their vessels with the Greek invention?” It was his voice, thought Laetitia. The Emperor, her childhood love. She still had great feelings for the man, and she knew he had some for her, but both knew that their fleeting time had gone. They were as old friends now.

“Well, they were hesitant to say too much to anyone so lowly as our ships’ captains, but we did notice that at least about a dozen of the 30 odd ships of war were carrying apparatus similar to what we know carries it on Oriental ships. But the rest appeared to be your normal ships of the line. All were far superior to ours, mind you. Latium has been doing its utmost lately to develop its naval program. She fears the Saracen pirates more than we, because of the proximity of the islands to her. Which had she not begun re-conquering, would surely be Saracen strongholds by now.” A short pause ensued, Laetitia crept up to the door and peaked around as discreetly as she could and saw that inside Sorex was shuffling through some papers that she could only guess were intelligence. “Ah, here it is,” he began again, reading mildly from a page, “Apparently, the single unit of land troops they have sent is led by their esteemed commander of forces fighting to liberate Sardinia.”

The emperor looked lighthearted but still mildly annoyed, “Ah yes, the token troops they have dedicated to the endeavor.” He tapped his right index finger on the table. “Where do you think we should send them?”

Sorex’s eyebrows went up, “To what army should they be attached?”

“Yes.”

Sorex studied a statue set in a niche at the opposite end of the room. It was a life size rendering of the emperor’s father. “I should say he should take up a flank. Definitely a flank. You, your magnificence, will surely want the glory of the center advance.” A smile tugged at the corners of Sorex’s mouth as he bowed his head ever so slightly.

“So I am taking the center, then?”

“Yes, majesty. If it pleases you. I thought you would lead Exercitus I with the Magister Militum Praesentalis. Setting out from Lugdunum.”

“Right.” The emperor motioned for a slave who immediately moved forward and began spreading a large map of Gaul on the table. “Show me where the armies are and what their main objectives are. As well as where you think this, uh, what was his name?”

“His name is Lucius Bubonis Probus, sire.”

“Yes, Lucius Bubonis. Where do you think he should go?”

Sorex cleared his throat and looked at the map. “Well, seeing as he has not yet arrived here in the capital, it would take him a while to get to the west flank, and since we don’t want him up the middle with you, perhaps he could go northeast and make sure Burgundia doesn’t start too much trouble.”

“Are his troops capable of those conditions? Those are mountainous areas.” The emperor wasn’t the most military of men, but the obvious did not elude him.

“Seeing as he’s only one legion allotted to him, I don’t see how it could be too difficult to keep them fed and the like. And all of our reports from the burgi report that not only do the Burgundians think their mountains will protect them without manmade fortifications, but also that an actual army is a waste of time. By all accounts they have a moderate sized militia at stand down for the coming conflict. Which I believe they were hoping to send to Francia to do battle. Looks as though they are confident no blood will be spilt on their turf.”

Emperor Valentinus laid back in his jewel encrusted chair and folded his hands across his lap. “So you don’t think you need him with you? Advancing from Burdigala?”

“No, Lord. I believe I can handle it with my armies. And the Saxon Confederation will basically be taking care of the Frankish forces anywhere on the eastern borders, so I have assigned the Magister Peditum of Mediolanum to march up the Rhodanus with you. With Exercitus III, the 3rd Army, accompanying him.” Sorex gave a look to the emperor that asked approval of his decisions.

Valentinus spread his arms making his imperial robes shimmer in the light of the lamps in the room, “Everything seems well appointed, Sextus. I only regret that Treverorum will not be ours.” The emperor was referring to the grand old city that had been lost long ago to the Germanics, and had been a sore point for the empire ever since. “And I doubt the Saxons will let go of it should they capture it. It is too great a symbolic prize.”

Sorex began to gather up his documents as the slaves cleared the maps and wine cups from the table, “You never know, sire. We may get that far north before the Saxons get to it.”

“Nonsense. It’s right across the river, and I guarantee that their armies are poised to strike there first and hold it. The Saxons fight with us but are no more loving of us than the Franks, nor we of them.” Sorex’s silence betrayed regretful agreement. “Those barbarians will loot it for all its worth.”

Valentinus was still seated, which made Sorex stay as well, “Do you think Sorex, that Rome is helping us enough?”

“Well, sire, uh, the soldiery they are sending us are the best they have, but wholly too little to be of any true value I think. But in reality it is more than what we really wanted out of them. The other ships coming with their war fleet carry the much needed provisions for our troops. Their fleet itself will protect our backside, if I may, from Saracen attacks. Its all we need from them.” Sorex swallowed, “I dare say that we shouldn’t even have had to buy it from them. We are all Romans here, and at the very least they should respect our political superiority. They still like to bleat on about how they are the only real empire. But those that know what is good for them will not say it too loudly. Lest we make them a part of the West for good.”

“Well, General, that’s the way it goes, now, I guess. East Empire sells us silkworms to fill her coffers. We in turn have to buy from the Duchy of Rome what they now guard as much as the old Easterners used to, the legendary ‘Fire.’”

“Aye, Emperor. But things will change when all of them see how we crush Francia.”

The emperor put his finger to his lip and reflected for a moment, “It occurs to me that we do not have any special weapon as Rome and Occident have. What do you think of that, Sorex?” He looked the general strait in the eyes. “I mean, it is superficial, but do you think we are lacking?”

“I think, sire, our soldiers themselves are far superior to any gadgets Rome or Constantinople can come up with. But if it makes you feel better, our martial ingenuity is displayed, I think, in our network of burgi.”

“Yes, they are very useful, kept us safe for many decades now.” The emperor, and all before him, had much valued their towers equipped with seeing glasses. They allowed more space between towers, upon which all sorts of information was relayed day and night from all corners of the empire, from invasion to insurrection. It had been the key to fast and accurate troop deployment that had plagued the empire for so long before its advent. Now the troops could be deployed to wherever there was danger at almost the moment it was realized, from Burdigala to Mediolanum, and all the spaces in between. Consequently, less troops were needed.

The emperor, as was custom, rose first, followed by Sorex who gave a deep bow, and Laetitia outside the door reversed herself and started walking briskly to her apartments. She was pondering the burgi. It occurred to her that they did help curb the civil wars, but now, she noticed, revolt happened closer to the emperor’s throat. Plots nearer to his actual person were the only way to do anything now. Troops declaring a new usurper were too easily crushed. They would have more chance for success if they did so and stayed put rather than marching on the capital.

*****

Imperator Valentinus seemed to flow out of the room. The garments had that effect. His living chain of attendants followed him out so closely Sorex thought it amusing they did not trip over one another. He was free to go now, for the emperor always left you, not the other way around. He motioned for the single slave he had with him to come forward from behind.

“Take these and leave me. I have business.” He nearly threw the small stack of documents at the man. “See to it I have something hot to eat in my quarters when I arrive.”

The slave bowed deeply, and without raising his eyes from the floor, “When will Dominus be arriving?”

“Just make sure its hot, understood?” He was already walking around the end of the table, leaving the slave to decipher his future arrival in fear.

The stiff smell of incense and oil lamps hit Sextus Asinius Sorex the moment he breathed in the hallway. His leather boots echoed down the corridor. That lousy bastard, I wish I could do it myself. He didn’t hide his rage from himself, but let it boil inside him. It was his motivation, his drive, and worse, he knew it. His fuel and fire, all at once. Exiting the corridor into a grand hall he began to search the crowd of delegates, officers, Senators, and others for one man, the Master of the Foot for Mediolanum, Commander of the 3rd Army, Decius Memmius Glaucia. Glaucia, he thought, the selfish little shit. A means to an end, nothing more. He spotted him, far across the marbled floor, wearing his purplish scarlet knee length tunic, standard officer wear. He had his arms raised in conversation with someone. Sorex knew him well enough to know that Glaucia would drop anything he had going at the moment when Sorex presented himself for a talk. He was getting a little hungry so he put some more spring in his step and started bumping into people a little more to get across.

“Glaucia!” he saw the man turn and look. He spotted him with ease, for he was waiting for Sorex, and knew which way he would come from. The shout was no surprise. He approached just in time to hear Glaucia terminate the conversation.

“Ave Sorex. What was it you needed to discuss with me?” he said with a rather ignorant look on his face.

“What do you think?” He extended his right arm to the side to invite him to walk away from the great hall and into one of the numerous radiating corridors.

“Our business, I would think. But I thought we had everything settled. I know what Im to do.” He looked at Sorex, then risked what was on his mind, “Unless you wanted to start paying me now, instead of later.” His hand came out as though Sorex would drop a few coins in them that instant.

“You lousy beggar. What kind of man are you to offer your palm? If I weren’t so pathetic as you, I might disgrace you further by placing something in it.” Sorex sighed. “Listen, as far as payment, we already discussed, you will be granted some lands and a better post. That is worth more than hard currency these days. Especially when things change. As only we know they will.”

“As only we know,” Glaucia mimicked.

“And that is just what I have come to tell you, it must stay that way for this to come off without a trial and execution for either one of us. So know this: I depart for Burdigala very soon, and I just thought I would tell you that should you assume I will not give you your just rewards and you decide to betray me, I can easily have you dealt with from wherever I am...campaign, prison, perhaps even beyond the grave. But I havent tried that one yet.” Glaucia stared. “Don’t make me. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“If you intend to betray me you might as well do it here now, in front of me where you can at least kill me before I set my wheels in motion to destroy you.” Sorex breathed deep and quick, “Now, since that part is dispensed with, I ask you, are you committed?”

Glaucia was. But even if he hadn’t been he wouldn’t have said it. Not here. It reminded him of when his parents would catch him in a lie as a child and tell him to come clean without punishment, but he still didn’t out of fear. He recalled how that usually led to more harsh punishment. “Yes, you have my word.”

“Good.” Sorex turned on his heel and walked away. He did not neglect to remember that as a military man, Glaucia had already sworn oaths he would break in due time, which meant his word was more useless than his soldiering. But no matter, he didn’t fear malicious betrayal so much as stupid carelessness that would destroy everything. That was what this little rendezvous had been about. Hopefully he was intimidated enough to be careful now.

Chapter II Departures

Lucullus stared eagerly at the city. He had never seen anything like it before. He was certain he would never see anything like it again either. The walls were monstrous, and thick. They had to be, he thought, to rise so high without crumbling on themselves. He could just make out a magnificent temple above the walls, on a hill, towards the eastern end of the peninsula on which the city sat. Otherwise, only the occasional rooftop crept toward the sky enough to be seen above the fabulous crenellations of Roma Occidentalis.

“Fabulous, isn’t it?” Lucius asked his son.

Lucullus hesitated. His pride and upbringing told him that to acknowledge another city’s greatness was betrayal to Rome. “Uh...yes. Yes, father. I see why they call it Arx, the castle.”
“Yes. The Castle. Magnificent fortifications. And a good location to boot. Grandest city in the west I would imagine.”

Lucullus turned his head with a snap and looked for confirmation from his father, “You mean besides our home?”

“Of course.” Lucius slapped his hand matter-of-factly on the railing. Their ship was at the head of the large Roman fleet, and the whole group was moving into the great harbor that surrounded Arx. He could see behind the boat all the vessels trailing behind. Twenty or so ‘Firing Ships,’ a dozen leased merchant ships carrying provisions and supplies, and the two more ships closest containing the most precious cargo of all, dignitaries. The air was crisp and smells of incense hung about. A great jetty that was prepared to accept their ship was full of dignitaries, who presumably were burning offerings for a safe journey in honor of their newly arrived allies.

“Where shall we stay father? In a palace of some sort, or with the troops?”

Lucius was sure his bookish son would much rather have a comfortably appointed palace suite than a soldier’s tent, but he tried not to display it in his voice. “Don’t worry, your reading material will be fine.” He had to admit, his son was getting better since he began his military training on the Campus Martius. “I, as you know, would much prefer to stay with the troops for morale purposes; but the formality and frequency of the state affairs in which I will partake necessitate a more ‘civilized’ lodging for the time being. You will be with me, as a tribune of the legion.”

In a way, Lucullus was a little relieved, but he had been planning on becoming accustomed to camp life before too many rigors of life on the march became daily occurrences. The ship was getting closer to the docks now. He looked behind and saw that the rest of the fleet was being directed to massive temporary wooden docks set up in the great harbor. “I suppose I should ready the shore party.”

“Yes. Make sure they have their diplomatic armor on instead of the regular mails, alright Cicero?”

Lucullus cringed as he walked away and heard his father’s pet name for him. “I told you not to call me that anymore! The soldiers won’t respect a man named Cicero as a military man.”

“You could be named anything in the world and they still won’t. You have to earn it either way. Mark those words. Don’t ever assume that anyone respected by the soldiery had it handed him on a platter. Especially because of his name. Even had I not ever called you that, being noble they would have assumed it or something similar about you anyway.”

Lucullus turned on his heel and made for the lower holds to prepare for disembarkation.

*****

The Imperial Palace was alive this evening. Every bureaucrat in the capital was in attendance, and all in their best official regalia. The Emperor presided over the feast with grace, but was aloof and kept away from many of the lower officials. Only a select group were allowed personal conference with him. Laetitia looked around and saw Sorex seated at a table moderately close to the Emperor Valentinus. Tonight others were assigned the closest seats, namely the visiting military officers. One seat was not occupied though. Laetitia thought this very strange. Who would pass the opportunity to dine with the highest man in the land? The atmosphere was somewhat casual, people walking around and the like, as opposed to the usual custom of staying seated until the emperor moved from the table. The conversations were becoming boring and Laetitia thought it would be interesting to hunt down the missing Roman officer. They were somewhat easy to spot, for tonight they wore their traditional garment, the toga. Only rich Romans from Latium did this anymore. After a stroll about the hall, she saw a young-looking man on the terrace outside the room. His back was to her, but the toga was unmistakable. She approached him.

“It is magnificent, is it not?” She pointed to the valley below the palace.

Lucullus was surprised by the voice interrupting his gazing, he turned to place a source to it and was surprised again by the shocking beauty of the young woman talking to him. “Uh, uh...yeah. Yes, I mean; it is beautiful.”

She could tell what he was thinking, her looks had gotten similar reactions before, she smiled coyly and looked to the valley and its contents. “The circus, it is modeled on the one in your Rome. This whole palace complex was inspired by it. Palace overlooking a circus.”

“Yes, I noticed the similarity.” He was trying his best to recover from his show of surprise, and thought best to keep the conversation going like he had no other thoughts in his head. “I regret to tell you though, our circus has become a bit dilapidated. Nowhere near as pristine as this. We haven’t the funds lately to support it. The amphitheaters receive a good deal more attention of late.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, our circus is a little smaller than the one in Rome. One of the few things that we did not have the urge to outdo the world on.” She flashed him her smile again. She thought it very cute the way he clasped his hands behind his back to feign the somber Latin attitude for which Romans of Rome were famous.

“Well, ahem, my name is Lucius Bubonis Probus. I am glad to make your acquaintance...”

“Clodia Palatina Laetitia.” She filled him in. “But I am called Laetitia.” She looked at him for an instant and then her brain clicked a thought into place. “You are the Lucius who leads the fleets here? At the head of the legion? I knew they promoted from within the Senate young men to lead, but I had no idea they would let such young blood take command.”

“No, I am not in command. It is my father who is.”

“Your father?”

“You are aware of the old custom? Regarding Roman names...”

“Mm, no, perhaps a refresher lesson.”

“Well, the sons keep the name of their fathers. And, well, never mind. Its not important. Uh, yes, my father is the commander. But I am a Tribune.” He had a look suggesting he was searching for her approval. She could tell he liked her. “For simplicity’s sake you may call me Lucullus. Nearly everyone else does.”

She faced away from the view to the valley to look him more fully, “Nearly everyone? My interest is piqued.”

“My father calls me Cicero. On account of my bookishness. Nothing too interesting about my name, I’m afraid.”

“Ah. So, you are a Tribune? Nice position, I suppose?”

“Yes, Domina.”

“You needn’t call me that. I am the master of no one here. Excepting myself.”

Story 932

Story 923
ANNALES BREVIS ORBIS ROMANI
Cur Christianitas Sucessit?
Timidus Continentis: Oglethorpus timorque Floridae
De Natura Regis Regni Hierosylimae
Vita Familiae Caesaris